


The Taste Of Blood

by The_Sad_Hatter



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker, Sebastian Stan - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Because it can be read either way tbh, Blindfolds, Bloodplay, But I've tagged it as OC as well, Cause damnnnnnn son, Dom/sub, Drama, Even though Reader has a 'name', Her real name (your name) is a secret, Humour, It's made clear it's a fake name and fake identity, Light Bondage, Modern Day Dracula novel, Multi, My Dracula is inspired by Sebastian Stan, Mystery, Oral Sex, Physically based on Bucky Barnes, Rough Oral Sex, Sebastian Stan Dracula Casting, Sex, Vampire Sex, bisexual reader, biting kink, blood and gore warning, graphic violence warning, it's a reader insert, smut warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24797335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Sad_Hatter/pseuds/The_Sad_Hatter
Summary: It should have been simple, it should have been safe. Serve a drink, serve a smile, keep my head down, keep my secrets… If I had just stuck to the damn rules, I wouldn’t have gotten dragged into this world of pain. But all it took was a scream in the night, and I ran headfirst into the danger. All I wanted to do was take a shortcut home, and I stumbled upon a dangerous road that I can’t turn off of. From the first glimpse of blood soaked fangs in the moonlight, I was trapped in a world I had never believed existed. Vampires are very real, very terrifying, and very, very annoying.
Relationships: Dracula/Original Female Character, Dracula/Reader, Sebastian Stan/Original Female Character(s), Sebastian Stan/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 71





	1. The Beaten Path

**Author's Note:**

> It should have been simple, it should have been safe. Serve a drink, serve a smile, keep my head down, keep my secrets… If I had just stuck to the damn rules, I wouldn’t have gotten dragged into this world of pain. But all it took was a scream in the night, and I ran headfirst into the danger. All I wanted to do was take a shortcut home, and I stumbled upon a dangerous road that I can’t turn off of. From the first glimpse of blood soaked fangs in the moonlight, I was trapped in a world I had never believed existed. Vampires are very real, very terrifying, and very, very annoying.
> 
> My name is Rose Black, or it is at the moment. I’ve changed it so often that I can barely remember what my real name is anymore, and that’s not exactly a bad thing. There are demons in my past that I can’t let catch up with me, and they terrify me far more than the actual monsters in my present. I’ve been running for a long time, from my past, from my sins, from myself, running for my life. But in running from one monster, I inadvertently sprinted straight into the arms of another.
> 
> Vlad Tepes, Vlad The Impaler, Dracula himself, is the only person who can protect me now, but his price may be too steep. The lines between Legend and truth, love and lust, fear and hate, have never been so blurred. The further into the Vampire world that I sink, the more my own past unravels. Secrets I have kept for years are in danger of coming to the surface. Secrets that any Vampire, especially Dracula, would kill for.

It takes more muscles to frown than to smile, apparently. That supposed scientific fact didn’t do a damn thing to change the aching in my face though. No matter what happened, I kept my smile intact and my eyes dead.

_“Get me another pitcher, sugar.”_

“Coming right up.” I grinned.

_“Why don’t you come out from behind that bar and have some fun for once?”_

“Can’t, someone’s gotta serve you.” I evaded, smiling widely.

_“I’d like my drinks today.”_

“Here they are!” I announced, showing my teeth in more of a snarl than an actual smile.

I never made it more than an hour into a shift before I started using mental tactics to keep my lips upturned. Greasy slimeball with breath strong enough to make me gag from across the bar who undressed me with his eyes? I imagined smashing his pimply face into the worn wood of the bar, and the smile on my face would grow. Snooty little tramp with an IQ lower than her teeny tiny waistline, barking cocktail orders at me? I pictured duct taping her to the wall under the dartboard and practicing my aim, and that brought a rare but real smile to my face.

The saving grace of tonight was that the bar was relatively empty for a Saturday. Something about a carnival two towns over that had cleared out most of the patrons under 30. That had just left the daily patrons and construction crew who needed to blow off steam before the work week restarted. The damning disadvantage of having a slow business day was the lack of sinning distractions for my least favourite customer.

Every so often I could feel the hair on the back of my neck prickle with unease as a pair of red-rimmed and hateful eyes would bore a hole in the back of my head. His attention slithered across my skin like grease, slimy and constricting, no matter how hard I tried to ignore it. He wasn’t the first man who’s persistent staring had made me feel nauseous, but he might have been the first who did it without even a flicker of lust in him. There was only ever hatred in his eyes, deep and dark hatred, hatred I had done nothing to cultivate. Other customers, even the violent fantasy inducing ones, were a minor irritant, buzzing flies, but him? He was the only one I despised. Ironic really, that a man of the cloth was the one who had me seriously restraining myself from committing that worst sin. It was the Reverend who had my fingers itching to wrap around the handle of the knife next to the lime’s, to slash it across the flesh under that white collar. Instead, I met his eyes and smiled. I only ever smiled. Running around murdering ‘good’ men of the church was not a wise idea, it was the very opposite of a good idea.

What a shame.

The scent of vanilla and peaches permeated my senses, cutting through the sharpness of the alcohol I was surrounded by, drawing me out of my wicked inner musings. Glancing to the side, I smirked at the owner of the sweet perfume, arching my brow at her questioningly.

“Can I help you, Steph?” I enquired blandly, my tone warmer than my professional one, but not so warm as to be mistaken for friendly.

Tossing a handful of buttery blonde curls over her shoulder, she rested her elbow on the bar and propped her chin on her fist, looking me over sympathetically. There was a very brief flicker of disappointment at what she would call my tragic choice of outfit; black jeans and black long-sleeved Henley, and an almost wistful glance at my flat-heeled, knee high boots. Steph’s towering high heels might look fantastic, but they were clearly hell to wear if the longing looks at my shoes were anything to go by.

“Rose, sweetheart, how are you doing tonight?” She asked, eyes flashing with concern at the poorly disguised murderous intent in my eyes.

“Peachy.” I hissed through gritted teeth, wiping down my side of the bar with a ragged towel.

Her gaze swept across the bar, taking stock of the evening’s turnout. Her face pinched up as she spotted the Reverend perched at the end of the bar, hunched over his sixth glass of whiskey. As if he could feel the eyes on him, he glanced up, noticing me.

“Do you fear God?” He demanded, staring me down like he could see straight to my soul.

By the way his bloodshot eyes blinked blearily, I doubted he could see more than a vaguely person shaped blur.

“Not as much as he should fear me.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

“That’s baselphemy.” He slurred.

“Nah Rev, that’s action and consequence.” I sighed, but it didn’t matter, he’d already forgotten all about me, head dropping back down onto his chest.

“So, aside from the usual suspects, it’s pretty quiet in here tonight.” Steph remarked leadingly.

“Seems that way.” I agreed, non-committally. 

“Shouldn’t take too much to close up.” She pressed.

I slung the towel over my shoulder and leant on the bar, watching her with a blank expression. She chewed her lip, batting her eyelashes at me, sighing when it garnered no kind of response.

“Can I skip out early? Please? I’ll make it up to you, it’s just Deputy Fisk finishes soon and if he see’s me walking home, he’ll probably stop and offer me a ride.” She pleaded.

I said nothing for a few moments, letting her sweat while I mulled it over. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, she was always running off somewhere, trying to find some man to woo her. Guess this week she’d turned her sights on the freshly divorced Deputy.

God, I hated that I knew so much about these people and their lives. It was the curse of a small town, and the gossip overheard while working at the local bar. I hadn’t been in town for over three months, and still I knew everybody and their business. Thankfully, they knew nothing about me, though the rumour mill had spewed out some entertaining theories. I was especially partial to the one about me being an ex-stripper on the run from my mob-boyfriend, after he caught me banging his brother. It was definitely the most flattering of the options.

“Please?” Steph whined, bringing my attention back to her.

“Fine.” I grumbled, pushing back off the bar and grabbing an empty pitcher for the construction crew who were playing rock paper scissors to see who had to come fetch the drinks. 

“Thank you! You are just the sweetest, anyone ever tell you that?” She gushed, bouncing away with a renewed sense of vigour.

A dozen pairs of eyes snapped to the giddy waitress, entranced by the excited bouncing and the gravitational effect it was having on her chest.

“If they did, they were lying.” I snorted.

Sweet wasn’t a synonym anyone in their right mind would conjure up when thinking of me, which went a long way to explaining Steph’s mental state; Dangerously Optimistic and allergic to reality. 

Henry Tavish strolled up to the bar, still grinning at his rock-paper-scissor victory, ignoring the cajoling and jeering from the rest of his crew as he grinned at me and opened his mouth to speak.

“Here, it’s your last one tonight, we’re closing soon.” I warned, slamming the fresh pitcher of beer down between me and Henry, ignoring the faint hope and courage on his face as he looked at me.

“Wow, Rose, You’re on the ball tonight, huh?” He laughed, unperturbed by my blatant disinterest.

“All you boys ever order is pitchers, and you were running low. It’s not rocket science.” I said blankly, rebuffing his attempts at a compliment.

“Yeah… Listen, I was wondering…” He started to ask, but I cut him off before he had the chance to embarrass himself.

“Wondering is a dangerous pastime, especially for a drunk man. Best get back to your friends before that imagination of yours gets you into any trouble.” I warned, crossing my arms across my chest and leaving no room for argument.

He sighed disappointedly, dropping enough notes to cover the tab and tip, grabbing the pitcher and slinking back to his extremely unsympathetic buddies. A minor stab of guilt pricked at my gut, but it dissipated as quickly as it came. I could have been nicer to him, but that wasn’t my style. I didn’t want anyone to get the mistaken impression they had any chance of getting closer to me, so there was kindness in my callousness.

Sort of.

Shrugging off the last vestiges of regret, I turned back to the few lingering patrons strewn around the bar, only to meet the Reverend’s waiting eyes. I grabbed the cheapest bottle of Scotch we had and sauntered over to him, unimpressed by his attempts to vaporise me with his eyes.

“Sinner!” He hissed poisonously at me.

I paused and deliberately glanced down at the glass clutched between his fists.

“Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.” I told him sweetly, refilling the glass. “Finish your drink and get on home, Rev. It’s Saturday night, which means you’ve actually got to work tomorrow. Saving souls and all that jazz.” I reminded him.

“And will I see you in the pews, Miss Black? Will you come crawling back to God, to beg his forgiveness, to save yourself before it’s too late?” He asked, more coherent than he had been for several drinks.

“Can’t, I’m washing my cat.” I brushed off.

“You don’t have a cat.” He frowned, genuinely perplexed.

“So I don’t.” I muttered, leaving him to his whiskey.

One by one, the patrons all stumbled away, in various degree’s of drunkenness. It was an easy night, for a Saturday. I only had to confiscate one pair of keys, while wiping down tables and stacking glasses. By the time the bar was empty and I locked the door, all that was left was to count the cash in the till and sweep the floor. Muscle memory took over, and my mind drifted elsewhere while I worked, my feet treading the familiar route around the bar.

“I think you and I are getting too used to each other.” I whispered, looking around wistfully.

I was already becoming a fixture around the town, and people were getting friendly. Mrs Parish had added me to her weekly route of pie deliveries, teetering up the path every Wednesday morning with a pastry dish held proudly in her hands. No matter how hard I tried to remain aloof, I would crack under her kindness every time. By now, I’d given up pretence and made sure I had a pot of Earl Grey waiting for her, just how she liked it.

Steph kept hinting at meeting up outside of work, gentle offers of driving up to the city for shopping and cocktails. I couldn’t fend her off for much longer. The Sherriff would call out my name and wave when I passed by, the postman would drop parcels off to me at work instead of home, the grocer always kept a bushel of the best Red apples aside for me, and nosy middle-aged mothers kept sniffing at my eligibility. I was a fixture in not just the bar, but the whole town. The blatant curiosity was starting to die down, replaced by easy acceptance. This lazy little town, surrounded by marshland and forests, was becoming home.

It was time to leave.

As soon as I realised it, I accepted it. I’d done this a hundred times before, I knew the drill, and I knew that drawing it out would only leave room for problems to form. I left a hastily scribbled note and left it on the bar, alluding to some kind of family issues, with a half-hearted apology. By the time the sun rose on the town, I’d be long gone, bags stuffed in the boot of my crappy little second hand car, Rose Black’s ID’ smouldering in a fire. In two or three days I would find another town, another village, or city. I’d have a new name, another crappy car and shambling apartment, and I would be serving drinks in some other bar. It might not be a normal life, but it was my normal. As I locked the doors for the last time, slipping the keys into the mailbox, I looked back on the cozy little watering hole I’d grown accustomed to.

“Listen, it’s not you, it’s me. You’ll be fine without me, better even.” I promised wryly, saluting the building and turning my back on it.

Now all I had to do was get back to the little shack I’d been renting, throw my measly possessions in a bag, leave some money with the keys on the table, and get the hell out of dodge. A quick, clean break, no loose ends, no looking back.

Except… Well, looking back was all I did. It was all I could do. Looking over my shoulder, always keeping one eye fixed on my past, waiting for it to catch up with me, waiting for it to run me down. That was why I had to keep moving, keep running, never staying still for too long, never getting comfortable, never making connections. The second I slowed down, I was dead.

It was time to kill Rose Black, before Rose Black got me killed.

Not one to linger on my choices or draw them out, I bypassed the turn off for the main road and headed straight for the well-worn footpath through the woods. It would take me straight past the town, and any last conversations, and it would get me back to my temporary home faster. It was a simple, insignificant decision, or so I thought. I had no idea that the winding path through the towering tree’s didn’t lead where I thought it would, it didn’t lead me to safety.

Blissfully unaware of the momentous importance of my choice, I stepped on to the path, leather soles imprinting onto the dirt, leaves crunching under my heel, and I walked towards my blood-drenched future.

Wind whipped around me, pulling tendrils of my hair around my face, caressing every inch of exposed skin with a bite. It was chilling enough to have me tugging the padded leather of my coat closer to my body, tucking my chin down and quickening my steps. Moonlight brushed down from the midnight sky, stabbing at the darkness emanating from the forest in a futile attempt to keep it at bay. I appreciated the attempt regardless. I might not be afraid of the dark, but I was wise enough to be wary of what was hiding in it.

I reached a fork in the path, and with only the slightest hesitation I turned away from the more worn fork that led down into the town, coming out between the convenience store and the bakery. Instead, I took the overgrown path that led deeper into the woods, hopping over a trampled bush, narrowly avoiding stepping into a patch of squashed berry’s. Under the moonlight, it was startlingly bright, scarlet even. Too scarlet.

I paused mid-stride, waiting for my paranoia to finish scuffling with my common sense, waiting to see which side would emerge victorious.

_“It’s not blood, it’s just some squashed berries. It just looks like blood because it’s dark, and we’re alone in the woods. Keep walking.”_

_“I could be blood though! It’s too red, far too red. What if it is blood?”_

_“That would be more reason to keep walking then, wouldn’t it?”_

_“Yes, yes it would. We should keep walking, walking faster even.”_

I didn’t need to think it twice, I immediately took my inner voice’s suggestion to heart and picked up my pace, nimbly making my way over the broken branches and overgrown brush. Blood or berries, it didn’t matter, I didn’t really need to know, didn’t need to stop and check. If it was blood, it wasn’t mine, so what did it matter?

_“Someone might be hurt.”_ A third inner voice murmured, speaking up from the depths of my mind, trying to break free of all the walls I had built around it.

_“Be quiet conscience, you only ever get us into trouble.”_ My common sense snarled.

But it was too late. I slammed to a halt, turning my head to look back over my shoulder at the little droplets of red in the dirt.

The answer was so obvious, so clear to me now that I wasn’t cowering behind self-preservation and selfishness. Crimson droplets were splashed all across the path, dripping down the broken barbes branches, sprayed onto the fallen leaves. I didn’t know how I could have pretended otherwise, fooled myself into thinking that it was anything other than blood. Fresh blood.

“God fucking damnit.” I muttered under my breath, cursing the inconvenient reappearance of my conscience.

Still, it wasn’t like there was a lot of blood, just a few drops strewn about. Someone could have caught their leg in the bush, scraped it open on the brambles, and hobbled home in annoyance. Whoever the blood belonged to was probably already at home, dabbing anti-septic onto the cuts and cursing themselves with as much gusto as I was currently doing. Only difference was I was the asshole still standing in the woods, arguing with myself.

A particularly violent gust of wind slammed into me. Violent in part because it nearly made me stagger backwards, but mostly because of the shrill scream it carried to me from the inky depths of the forest. A scream of terror, of horror, of danger.

Blood on the path, and a scream in the night. A situation I could not, would not ignore.

“No. Not my problem. Not. My. Problem.” I snarled, trying to warn myself against the dangerous action I was considering.

_“It was just the wind, nothing more. Keep walking.”_ Common Sense dictated.

_“No, don’t walk. Start running, and don’t stop.”_ Paranoia pleaded.

My conscience didn’t get a chance to chime in, because a second scream rose up from the night, a girl’s shrieking plea of _‘Please, no, please!’_ , and before the last syllable had been screeched out, I was already running.

Running in the wrong direction, not away from the screaming, but hurtling towards it at a breakneck pace. Through the trees, into the forest, right into the danger.


	2. The Beaten Path

My heart lurched as I propelled myself through the woods, winding around the trees as I followed the lingering screams in the air like a determined bloodhound. All the little voices in my head were left behind in my wake as I raced towards the danger with grim determination, so focused on running that I nearly barrelled straight into a quivering blonde bundle of fear.

“Rose!” It screeched shrilly, grabbing at me with desperation.

Only then did I recognise Steph, her usually perfect bouncing curls matted with dirt, mascara tracks running down her face. The terror was rolling off of her in waves was so thick that it permeated the air, strong and acrid enough to taste.

“It’s ok, I’ve got you.” I assured her, wrapping my arm around her waist securely.

She folded into my side, tucking herself under my arm like she could hide there, and instinctively I tightened my grip in a wordless promise of protection.

“Let’s get you out of here.” I dictated, not that she was going to argue with me.

Her quivering body was barely moving though, and I had to drag her through the thick foliage, my eyes darting around the dark woods for whatever had spooked her so badly. It was then I saw the blood trickling down her collarbone, following the trail of it up with my eyes until I saw the bloody mess of a bite on her throat. A wave of nausea rolled through my stomach as I studied the bite, the blood seeping from two tiny pinpricks in her skin. It looked like… well, it was fairly obvious what it looked like.

“He’s still here.” She whimpered.

“He?” I asked, frowning.

Was this some kind of kinky roleplay gone wrong? If her officer sweetheart had done this to her, his badge wouldn’t be enough to protect him, that was for sure. The first traces of fury simmered under my skin, raising the temperature of my blood until it began to boil. 

“Let’s go, I’m getting you out of here.” I hissed, trying to keep my voice level and calm so as not to spook her further.

My voice wasn’t the one to be worried about though, it was the deep, rumbling one that slithered out of the shadows behind us that was the problem.

“Stephanie, you brought a friend to play.”

I whirled around, dragging Steph with me until we were both facing the danger. I searched for it, for him, until I finally saw him standing about twenty feet away, ensconced amongst the trees. A figure drenched in darkness, the shape of a man and nothing more. Tall, broad and statuesque.

He was dangerous. That much I could ascertain from the first glance, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled with unease. I pushed Steph behind me, shielding her with my body as the stranger stood his ground, watching us with eyes I couldn’t see through the shadows, but I could feel on me.

“Who are you?” I growled, fingers clenching into fists.

He cocked his head to the side, and moonlight shone over his shoulder, revealing his face. The exhale that was on it’s way out of my lungs was abruptly caught there as I got my first glimpse of him.

“My name is Roman, Roman Von Strucker. Tell me, does knowing my name make this easier for you? Less terrifying?” He wondered idly.

He was damn beautiful, that was for sure, but he was not attractive. There was too much malice and evil in him, too much of it to hide, it was practically seeping from his pores. The silvery glint of the moons light illuminated and contrasted off of his tanned skin, eyes that were so amber they were almost gold glinting dangerously in our direction. A golden monster, bathed in silver light, and a flash of crimson dripping down his chin.

“Did you fucking bite her?” I snarled, putting the pieces together as I watched the blood drip off his face.

Steph whimpered behind me, pressing per head between my shoulder-blades, and that was all the answer I needed.

“Can you blame me?” He chuckled, his deep voice crawling across my skin like thousands of bugs. “Sweet treats like her shouldn’t be walking around the woods if they don’t want someone to have a taste.”

He took a lazy step in our direction, and then another. I reached back to squeeze Steph’s arm, making sure she was paying attention to me, digging my nails into her skin to convey the urgency of my next words.

“Steph, RUN!” I ordered, shoving her away from me as I took a step forward, towards the danger.

He was thrice the size of me, but Steph was too out of it to be fast on her feet. The only chance she had of getting away, was if she had a head start.

“How about me, huh? Do I look sweet? Want a taste?” I taunted, ignoring the thundering of my heart and fear drowning my lungs.

He watched over my shoulder as Steph stumbled out of sight, her sobs carried back to us on the breeze, and then he turned his eyes back to me and smiled. He answered my challenge with one of his own, holding out his hand and crooking his finger at me.

All I had to do was keep him distracted long enough for Steph to get away, that was it. Easy. I could do that. But could I do it without getting chewed up by the psycho cannibal myself?

There was only one way to find out.

“What, you too lazy to work for your dinner?” I scoffed, bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, limbering myself up.

My tone didn’t betray the terror consuming me from within. I was trapped in the dark woodland, with a freaky cannibal who’s hand was probably larger than my whole head. Worse, I was willingly here, serving myself up on a silver platter so that a woman I barely knew could escape.

If I somehow survived this, I vowed to take a sledgehammer to my moral compass. No more bravery, no more hero complex, it was selfishness only from here on out, conscience be damned.

“I don’t sing for my supper, little thing, I make my supper sing for me.” He chuckled, utterly uncaring about one of his victims escaping while the other taunted him.

He thought he was in control of the situation, there was absolutely no doubt in his mind. This beautiful man was radiating confidence, and for a brief moment I saw him not as he was, but as he could be. Reality melted away, leaving nothing but a pretty lie behind. If not for the blood on his face and the spine-chilling evil in his soul, he could have been a knockout. He still was, evil and all, and the longer I stared into the golden depths of his eyes, the less important the blood on his face seemed. He was gorgeous, powerful, and strong, so what did a little darkness matter in the face of all his shining qualities? Everyone had their kinks, and he was a biter, so what? There were worse things to be.

“I bet you’ll sing so prettily.” He whispered, his breath fanning across my cheek and tickling my skin as he reached out towards me.

When did he get close enough to touch me?

Shit.

“What the hell?” I gasped, throwing myself backwards, a millisecond before his fingers would have touched my skin.

A flicker of surprise flashed across his face before it was chased away by amusement.

“Don’t you want me to touch you?” He asked softly, his tone suggesting that I should obviously be thrilled to be touched by him.

Thrilled to be touched by this beautiful…. Monster. He was a monster, and inexplicably, I had briefly forgotten that. As soon as I thought it, the fog cleared from my brain and I realised that I had inadvertently relaxed. All traces of fear that had magically and mysteriously disappeared from my system rushed back, and I had to swallow them down while I desperately tried to figure out what the hell had just happened.

“Maybe.” I whispered, trying to pretend that whatever hypnosis he had put me under was still effective.

He’d gotten inside my head, and I didn’t have any damn idea how the hell he had done it. Maybe there was something in the air, some kind of gas, a drug that relaxed his victims while he chowed down on them? As insane as it sounded, that would be the most logical conclusion at least. There was another conclusion to be drawn though, a far less logical, but far more terrifying one, one that made no sense whatsoever.

But Steph had bite marks on her throat, and this terrifying psychopath had somehow invaded my mind, so maybe it was a foolish notion, but it would be more foolish of me to disregard it.

I held my hands up in surrender, backing away slowly, watching him carefully as I asked the ridiculous, burning question.

“Level with me here, are Vampires real?” I sighed, and god, I hated myself for asking it.

He grinned ferally, showing me his teeth. His pearly white, straight, normal, human teeth. For one glorious, calming moment, I felt relief, and a tinge of embarrassment. And then the moment broke, shattering into a billion shards, obliterating my world, ripping the rug out from underneath me and tearing the wool from my eyes. There, in the shadows of the old oak trees, everything changed in an instant, changed so momentously that I knew there would never be any going back.

Moonlight glinted of off his teeth as they elongated, tapering off into wickedly sharp points. Elongated fangs, actual fangs, sprouting from his wicked grin before my eyes.

Oh yeah, Vampires were fucking real. And with the weight of that new knowledge weighing heavily on my shoulders, I threw myself backwards and spun around, sprinting as fast as I could for the cover of the trees, the vampire’s laughter trailing after me. I plunged into the tree’s, doing my best to ignore the laughter that slithered on my heels, so spine-chillingly evil that it felt tangible, as if his laughter alone would be strong enough to wrap around me and drag me back to his teeth that I might die by them.

I pressed onwards, letting fear do what it did best; push me to do what _I_ did best. Fear made me run, fear made me ignore the branches that whipped across my skin as I hurled through them, fear made me disregard the burning in my lungs and the seizing pain in my limbs. Fear made me refuse to turn around and see how close my would be killer was to catching me. Fear was my only ally in this, and I embraced it as it chilled my blood and ran through my veins. Fear might be the only thing that could keep me alive tonight.

There were a thousand, nay a million questions churning around my mind. Questions of monsters, and myths, of supernaturalism and religion. There was only one question that really mattered though, one pertinent question that beat through my brain.

Could I outrun a vampire?

I didn’t let the probability of failure slow me down as I sprinted, praying to a god I had never befriended before that I wouldn’t trip and fall on one of the many pitfalls that lined the forest floor. I couldn’t argue, sass, or fight my way out of this, I could only run, and if that wasn’t enough to save me then… well, I would die.

The tree’s that I darted past were familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time, and I realised that I didn’t know what part of the woods I was in. I didn’t know what direction I was running in, or where I was heading. The woods that ran through this small town stretched our for miles, surrounding the little patch of civilization and blanketing the hills around it. If I wasn’t heading towards the town, I was heading into the wilderness, and I didn’t know which was better. Maybe I would find the town, the police station, where there were weapons, or perhaps I could lose my pursuer amongst the tree’s, long enough for the sun to rise. But did guns work on Vampire’s? Was there any truth to the stories of sun being an enemy to them? Or was I running for nothing more than delaying the inevitable? All these years of running, of surviving, had it all been for this, for me to die at the hands of a fucking myth?

At least I could take some small comfort in saving Steph, of giving her a chance to escape. My life for a near strangers, that was a good thing, right? Except it didn’t feel like a fair trade. Out there, surrounded by darkness and chased by death, something in my heart hardened and I couldn’t help but bitterly wish I had just ignored the sound of screams on the wind. She would have died, but I would have lived, free of the terrible knowledge of what was in these woods. My body stopped listening to my brain, and exhaustion began to win it’s battle as I unwillingly slowed down, my legs barely able to hold me up as my lungs screamed in desperate protest for oxygen, and I realised that Steph was going to live while I died in her place. I had traded my life for hers, and though it wasn’t fair or logical of me to think it, I hated her in that moment.

Being a good person wasn’t my natural state, more like an annoying habit I couldn’t break. Deep down in my soul, I wasn’t as selfish as I wished I was, so I knew that given the chance to do it all over again, I’d still try to save her. Didn’t stop me cursing her name in my head though. If you’re going to die for someone, you at least have the right to think insulting thoughts about them in your last moments.

Steph was an annoyingly chirpy, ditzy busybody, and…

The insulting thoughts disintegrated in my mind as I went down, stumbling over the ground as someone stepped directly into my path. For a long torturous second, I thought it was my pursuer, that he had gotten ahead of me to cut me off.

The man staring down at me impassively was not the one I was running from though. Stormy grey eyes pierced right through me, as if I weren’t even there, like he was seeing through me and to the forest beyond. He was paying no more attention to me than I would a stray leaf on my path. I paid attention to him though, his appearance shaking me out of my fear for a moment as I drank in the sight of him.

He was… well almost indescribable. Pale skin, and long dark hair, muscles _everywhere_ , just a man, a regular man. But somehow he was more, all the individual traits adding up into something miraculously more than they should. Roman was beautiful despite the terror, but this man was a heart-wrenching kind of beautiful. The kind of beauty that comes with exquisite pain.

Something in my bones told me this man was far more dangerous than the one I was running from, some deeply ingrained instinct that had laid dormant until now, leftover from the days when humanity knew monsters were more than stories. If the vampire hunting me was dangerous, then this man was death itself.

And yet…

He turned his gaze on me for the first time when I clambered to my feet and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, tugging him in front of me, placing him between myself and the danger.

“You believe that I am going to protect you.” He stated, more amused assumption than question.

I swallowed thickly, trying to find my voice, but it wasn’t easy, not with the lingering notes of his own velvet tone still ringing in my ears.

“I have to believe it.” I whispered.

It was true, I had to believe that this terrifying figure would be my salvation, because if I didn’t then I would have to accept my inevitable demise.

He turned his head away from me, disregarding me once again as I cowered behind him. I didn’t relish hiding behind a man, behind a monster, but I was so far up shit creek without a canoe, never mind a paddle. All the bravery and bravado in the world couldn’t help me now, and pride had long since been abandoned.

“Roman. Lingering in the trees will not hide you from my gaze, you know this.” The vampire I’d designated as my saviour called out, and almost immediately my would-be-killer appeared in front of us.

His eyes flickered between me and the man I was using as a shield, a barely restrained sneer on his vicious mouth.

“My prince. You’ve caught _my_ prey.”

Prince? I’d stumbled onto Vampire royalty? The strangeness and terror of this night just kept growing, the revelations chipping away at what little sanity I had retained. But my survival instincts were still strong, and at the word prey I huddled further behind the ‘Prince’, hiding me from ‘Roman’s’ sight.

“Have I? Or have you been hunting _my_ prey?” The Prince rebutted.

I wasn’t sure what was happening, but even I couldn’t miss the clear challenge in the Prince’s tone. Both of them were now laying claim to me, for the right to claim my life, and I was second guessing my choices again.

“What a coincidence then, that we would both choose these woods to hunt in, and we would both choose the same frightened little rabbit.” Roman chuckled darkly.

“It is no coincidence. I was informed of your presence in this part of the world, and on my way to you I decided I would have her.” The Prince stated.

“Then you lose I am afraid, for my trap for her was set long before tonight. She is mine, undisputed.” Roman crowed victoriously.

“He’s lying!” I blurted out. “I’ve never seen him before tonight! He wasn’t even after me, I interrupted him eating my co-worker!”

He’d dug himself into a hole now, I was sure of it. Lying to a Prince had to be at least frowned upon, and he’d just been caught in a lie. Maybe I could let them fight it out, and make my escape in the chaos. It wasn’t a half bad plan, or it wouldn’t have been except…

“Well now, are you sure about that sweetheart?”

The distinctly feminine voice that called out from the darkness of the tree’s dashed any hope I had of surviving, and I realised that Roman really hadn’t been lying at all.

“Steph?” I croaked, as the bitch in question sashayed out of the shadows, all traces of bubbly personality gone.

That fucking conscience of mine, it had played me like a fiddle. She had never been in any real danger, this Steph, the real Steph, stood proud and tall, malicious mischief in her eyes as she smirked at me.

“Stephanie Von Strucker, please. I despised being sweet little Steph.” She huffed, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a natural haughtiness.

“You weren’t that sweet.” I snarled at her, curling my hands into fists and digging my nails into my palms, trying to work out how the hell I had never noticed she was a vampire.

I had never actually asked how long she had been in town, I just assumed she had always lived there. But there was a reason I slipped into the community so easily, it had a high turnover. It also answered the question of whether sunlight was an issue, because I _had_ seen Steph in the daylight before.

“Everybody loved Steph!” She pouted, yes, actually pouted, like a sulking child.

“No, everybody thought she was either dumb, easy, or both.” I snapped

Everything that happened next happened in the space of a few seconds, and I was left staring up at the scene in disbelief.

Steph was suspended in the air, fangs protruding from her mouth as she snapped and snarled in my direction like a rabid dog, held back from me by The Prince’s hand around her neck as he held her in the air. 

“Enough!” He declared, tossing Steph away like a ragdoll, and I took an enormous amount of joy at the way she crashed into a tree. “The girl is neither bitten, nor entranced. You have no claim on her body or her mind, regardless of the effort you put into entrapping her. Move to take her, and you will be moving against me.”

“What he said.” I agreed, though I was thoroughly ignored.

“I have rolled her mind, she will come to me if I ask.” Roman argued.

The Prince stepped aside with an expectant look, ignoring my small squeak of protest.

“Sweet thing…” Roman crooned in my direction, Steph chuckling excitedly behind him as she stood. “Come to me.” He enticed, holding his hand out.

My fingers twitched and my legs buckled underneath me as he turned his killer smile in my direction, all his alluring beauty shining brighter than the moon.

“Absofuckinglutely not.” I hissed, shaking my head resolutely at him.

Beautiful or not, I wasn’t going near him willingly, magic hypnotic powers be damned.

“Come.” He demanded again, more firmly this time.

I rushed forward, and the brief fleeting victorious grin on his face turned to fury as I barrelled into the Prince’s side, making my choice clear. The Prince would probably kill me, but Roman and Steph _definitely_ would. I’d take a tiny dash of hope over no hope at all.

“It seems you were mistaken Roman, you did not entrance her at all. Unless your power isn’t as strong as you believed?” The Prince chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

All Roman’s anger melted away, leaving him stone faced, but the fear in his eyes was still evident.

“I…” Roman stuttered.

“He tried, I felt him inside my head. I wanted to go to him, even if it meant dying, but I knew it wasn’t real. He isn’t strong enough to force me.” I admitted.

Maybe I should have kept that piece of information to myself, but I wanted Roman to suffer, and the only way I could hurt him was bashing his ego. But when the Prince went deathly still beside me, and a mocking grin flared on Roman’s face, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.

“Well said, sweet thing.” Roman laughed delightedly. “My Prince, despite the sweet scent of humanity on her, there is more than just blood in her veins. She has admitted it. Allow me to vanquish her for you.”

Everyone went deathly still, like the corpses they were, while I tried to catch up to what the hell was happening now.

“I don’t know what that means. I know he made me think he was beautiful, but I shook it off. I had to, he was going to drink me like a damn smoothie.” I protested.

One second I was stood next to the Prince, arguing my case, and the next I was pressed into a tree, bark scratching the back of my skull and a pair of stormy grey eyes pinned me into place. His gaze was more effective than the bruising grip he had on my arms, because I didn’t even try to move. I knew this was it, I’d tried to escape, I’d tried to talk my way out of it, I’d done what I could to survive, and I had failed. It was with absolute clarity that I realised I was about to die, and I just stood there trapped by the power in his gaze.

“No Roman. I am Vlad Tepes, The Prince of Blood, I wrote the laws that sentenced her to death, I hunted and killed her ancestors, her death is duty, and my pleasure.”

Steph made a disgruntled noise somewhere to my right, and it was a tiny consolation that I got to piss her off by not dying at her fangs. No, I was dying by the fangs of…

_Vlad Tepes?_ I knew that name. Everyone knew that name, or some variation of it. The Prince who had just sentenced me to death was…

“Dracula?” I gasped his name into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been a long time since I posted, I’m sorry. I hope this was up to my usual standards, I feel a bit rusty tbh. Please get back to me, I’m feeling very unconfident.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note -
> 
> Couple of things - So this is written in First Person POV, instead of Second like I usually write. 
> 
> I’ve edited it myself a bit, but it hasn’t been properly edited yet. You can find more info over at @the-tasteofblood on Tumblr!
> 
> So with that in mind, I would love to know your thoughts, and if you have any questions!


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